


A Mutually Beneficial Negotiation

by aurilly



Category: Sinbad (TV)
Genre: Brothels, M/M, Mutual Pining, Taverns, Undercover As Prostitute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:42:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28144800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurilly/pseuds/aurilly
Summary: An opportunity for a big trade forces Gunnar to face the feelings he's been hiding since his run-in with the Kaimar.Sinbad has been waiting for just such an opportunity.
Relationships: Gunnar/Sinbad (Sinbad)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 12
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	A Mutually Beneficial Negotiation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dorinda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorinda/gifts).



"Well, that's it for me," Anwar said. "It's late, and I'm off to bed." 

Rina expressed her agreement with a nod and a yawn.

As they made their way below deck, they passed Gunnar the blankets and furs that they usually borrowed from him on these chilly nights. Technically, they did not belong to him. They were all promised to furniture makers in Sana'a; however, no one would know if Gunnar let his friends use them along the way. 

Cook grumbled his goodbyes and headed down with the other two, leaving only Sinbad and Gunner above deck. Attentive, interested, and bright-eyed, he hovered as Gunnar folded everything back up into neat packets. 

"Gunnar…"

"I am tired, too, Sinbad." Gunnar hoped he sounded convincing and dismissive, but Sinbad had always been difficult to dismiss, even as an alluring bad idea trying to sneak onto a ship. "We have a big day ahead of us."

Sinbad swung himself up on one of the ropes supporting the mast. He made a restless little dance of moving from one rope to another. Anyone else would have bad Sinbad to get down, to stop playing the goat. But Gunnar didn't, because Gunnar was not a nag, because Sinbad was not a child (Gunnar knew that, knew that all too well), and because it would have been no use. Free spirits like Sinbad's did not respond to pestering. 

"You've been avoiding me," Sinbad accused with an accompanying wagging finger.

"This ship is not large, and we have not docked it many times. I have spent almost every waking minute of the past few months in your company."

Sinbad swung lower now, suddenly close to Gunnar's face. "You used to stay up with me all the time, after all the others had gone down. You don't anymore."

"It was only eleven times," Gunnar clarified, and then winced, because he should not have cared enough to keep count. 

"You've been avoiding me since the golem. Since the Kaimar." Sinbad swung himself back down, landing even closer than he'd been before. His breath fogged up as a cloud between their faces, obscuring how Gunnar had to close his eyes to control himself. Pleading, too close, and too trusting, he said, "I have so many questions."

"Most people live long and happy lives without having their questions answered." 

"Gunnar, please," Sinbad tried again, this time grabbing Gunnar's wrist.

Ever stronger, Gunnar shook him off, even though the touch sent a tingle all the way up his toned arm. "I'll see you in the morning, Sinbad. Tomorrow will be a long day, with much work to do."

After the night the whole crew died, Sinbad had claimed one of the hammocks below decks. He even sometimes came to sleep in it, although he much more often fell asleep on deck, nestled in the warm weight of the flour sacks, after having stared at the stars too long. He was a night owl, always had been, he'd said.

Gunnar was a night owl, too. He'd loved those late nights with Sinbad, huddled together under the largest of the furs, counting the stars, and talking only of the present, only of ideas and happy stories. On those nights, he had finally come to believe he could one day become the person he'd wanted to be after leaving the Valsgard. 

It was for this that Gunnar had been unable to leave him, no matter what trouble the rascal kept dragging him into. Despite the cannibals and curses, the sirens and deadly casinos, Gunnar had stayed on this little boat and fought for the privilege of basking in Sinbad's wide smile, which remained so happy despite all the tragedy that followed him. 

But now Sinbad knew enough to ask uncomfortable questions. His eyes did not betray the disgust that they ought to have, and he did not seem to have shared the details of their adventure with any of the others. But the peace of Gunnar's time aboard the ship had been tainted.

Strangely, the questions he most dreaded Sinbad asking had less to do with Gunnar's dark past and much more to do with the recent present. As a warrior, he had never fled a battle, no matter how terrifying the opposition. However, for the past few weeks he had fled every night—fled from the confusing feelings that choosing Sinbad over a life of penance and good works with the Kaimar had led him to fully recognize in himself. Feelings that Gunnar, who tainted everything he'd ever touched, did not deserve to feel. Feelings that could not—that _should_ not—ever be returned.

Gunnar practically ran down the ladder and into his hammock. He knew that Sinbad would not dare to continue the conversation below deck. Sinbad did not fear much, there was no one who failed to quail at Cook's wrath at having his beauty sleep interrupted.

A few minutes later, he heard Sinbad creep down and climb into his berth with a heavy sigh. 

Gunnar pretended to sleep.

* * *

"We're almost out of provisions," Anwar said the next morning as Cook guided them into the busy port. "This is the best chance we've had so far to restock."

"We don't have any money to restock," Rina pointed out. "Nala and her jewels would have been appreciated right now."

"So, we'll make money," Sinbad said with that bright optimism of his. "We all have skills. Anwar, you can offer medical services. There are always people looking for help at a reasonable price. You could set up outside one of the expensive hospitals, and serve people who are turned away for being just a little too poor. Cook, you make the best fish stew I've ever tasted. People at the pier would line up if you set up a limited-time stand. Gunnar, you already have your trades to make. And Rina…" He laughed at his own impending joke. "Rina, we won't ask any questions about where and how you spend your time, nor about the money or valuables you return with."

"You aren't… you can't actually be encouraging theft," Anwar complained.

"What will you do, Sinbad?" Gunnar asked. "You have found jobs for all of us except yourself."

"I'll take a walk and see what strikes my fancy. It's what I used to do with Jamil. We took very profitable walks."

"A jack of all trades, then," Rina said.

"You know what they say about those," Anwar added.

"I'm master of all, I'll have you know."

Gunnar said nothing, but he had no doubt that Sinbad could do anything.

* * *

Gunnar had always been of quiet disposition, most vocal when fighting. It was because of this that he sometimes feared saying too much. On the ship, he had preferred to listen to Sinbad's dreams, and to chuckle at Rina and Anwar's bickering. All of which was why, despite having constant companionship these days, he had not truly spoken much in months. He'd begun to worry that he had forgotten how to converse or build trust with anyone other than his recent companions. His negotiations started out a little haltingly, a little awkwardly, in ways that would leave him grimacing with mortification later on, like belches from an unappetizing meal. But as he met with each merchant and tradesman on his list, he began to feel more comfortable. 

The trades he made were profitable, and would have satisfied him and his meager needs before. However, today, Gunnar wanted to do something bigger, something impressive that would provide for his friends. 

"Are there any bigger projects I could undertake here?" he asked the last person on his list, a famously well-connected ship owner by the name of Al-Barish, who had fingers in every pie and ears at every snake hole in Arabia. "I have access to more than silks and furs. I have… friends and colleagues capable of acquiring more. Or acquiring anything."

Al-Barish summoned a servant and motioned for him to bring more wine and fruit. He leaned back in his plus sofa and surveyed the majestic view behind Gunnar's head. From this balcony, he could watch the entire harbour. He held himself like a disinterested king, but Gunnar knew he had appraised Gunnar's massive arms, guessed at his warrior past, and found himself interested. 

"Anything, you say?" Al-Barish asked.

Gunnar nodded. "We are a resourceful company."

"I have no doubt. In that case, there is a man you should see named Hashim. He is the richest trader in this city. He owns ships that carry silks and spices and jewels all the way to Europe. But where he really made his fortune was in the arcane. In magic. If you are serious about having access to _anything_ , you will be able to receive a very large commission."

"And what is in it for you?"

"He will thank me for having provided an introduction to a potential adventurer. He does so enjoy collecting them. He will find _you_ memorable, I am sure."

"Where do I find this Hashim?"

"He does not receive strangers in his home, and his secretaries have grown adept at shutting out those who want to make appointments. Your best bet would be to go to his favorite tavern. The Golden Goose. He owns it, and is to be found there most nights. Tell the men at the door that Al-Barish sent you, with his regards, to meet Hashim. Give them the password 'Hortensia'. They'll see that you are allowed to enter."

"Thank you."

* * *

Until today, Gunnar had not spent more than a moment by himself in months. Alone in the city like this, he could see how he had changed since joining the others. 

They were all so young (all except Cook, who remained a cypher). But instead of making Gunnar feel old, they reminded him of how young he yet was. The years of his service in the Valsgard had been hard, but they did not actually number very many. 

Someone tapped him on the shoulder on his way back to the ship. "There you are!"

Gunnar turned to find Sinbad grinning at him, hands in pockets, and rocking on his heels.

"Were you looking for me?"

"No, but I'm still glad to have spotted you. I feel quite lucky to have run into someone I know in a city this size. Especially when it is you."

These words meant nothing, Gunnar told himself. Sinbad liked him just the same as he liked all the others. He charmed everyone he met like this, with honeyed words and genuine good-will.

"You said you would discover an occupation whilst on your walk. What have you found?" Gunnar asked.

"Nothing yet. But I'm still on the lookout. What about you? How have your trades gone?"

"Very enough. It seems that other ships bringing my wares have recently all been beset by storms, which has increased the value of my goods. However, I also have a lead on something larger."

"Tell me."

Gunnar spent the length of half the city explaining his conversation with Al-Barish. Sinbad's eyes shone. 

"I have heard of this Hashim," he said. He is one of the richest men in Arabia. He pays handsomely. Moreover, it is said that he keeps a safe in Basra full of treasures. So many treasures that he cannot even keep track of them. And that is only one of his safes! I used to dream of getting in there."

"And then what would you do?"

"Choose a souvenir, of course." Sinbad nudged Gunnar's shoulder with each word, with each step. 

With anyone else, it would have been annoying. With anyone else, Gunnar would already have shoved back with double the strength. But this was Sinbad, and he found nothing about him annoying. 

"I mean to propose an adventure, not a trade," Gunnar explained. "Depending on what he asks, I will ask the others if they would like to partake."

"Well, you already know I'm in. Even if it's just the two of us together. Having the others is always a boon, but even with just you, I'm sure we would succeed."

The way Sinbad said it—as though they were the only two people in the world, and as though sharing an adventure just with Gunnar were some sort of dream—made Gunnar's heart leap into his throat, but he swallowed it back down. 

"So, you'll go to the brothel tonight? You'll meet with him?"

"Al-Barish said it was a tavern."

"The Golden Goose is famous even in Basra. I can't believe you have an invitation. Jamil and I always wished we could visit. The food! The wine. The, ahem, _wares_ for rent. It's all legendary."

Gunnar had reveled far too many times to blush, but something still roiled low in his belly at the thought of Sinbad in such a place, availing himself of the attentions. He wondered what Sinbad might choose, in a place where everything and anything was on offer.

He cast the thought from his mind before it consumed him, and before Sinbad noticed his interest.

"I'll be sure to tell you all about it in the morning," was all he said.

"We both know what that really means, Gunnar. You'll need to loosen up more if you're to have any hope of wheedling agreements or secrets out of this man." Sinbad walked behind Gunner and began massaging his shoulders.

This time, Gunnar _did_ shake him off. "I am perfectly loose."

"This is even worse than I thought." Sinbad looked at the ground as he walked, suddenly serious. "I'll see you later. I have to go."

"Where?" Gunnar asked, but it was too late. Quick as a rabbit, and with skills honed over a lifetime of evading the Watch, Sinbad had left his side and disappeared into the crowd.

* * *

Gunnar returned to the ship to take his supper. Cook had concocted a bisque using the new spices that his successful day of selling had allowed him to buy. 

"Not bad," Gunnar said between slurps.

Cook shrugged with false modesty. He knew what a weighty compliment those simple words were, coming from Gunnar.

Gunnar slopped it up with bread while listening to Anwar explain all the fascinating ailments he had treated that afternoon.

"Anwar," Rina complained, "some of us are trying to eat."

"Where is Sinbad?" Cook asked during the flustered pause in which Anwar struggled between enthusiasm and embarrassment. 

"I haven't seen him all day," Rina said. "He must be working on something bigger than we can imagine."

Cook sniffed in annoyance. " I wonder what better kitchen he has found in which to take his supper."

"We ran into one another in town," Gunnar volunteered. 

"What was he doing?"

"He didn't say. He did not stay long at my side." 

"I'll be so angry if he comes back having made more than the rest of us, and with half the effort," Rina said. "It would be so typical."

"I have a lead," Gunnar announced. "Your assistance might be appreciated, though never required."

Rina, Anwar, and Cook all confirmed their interest, though they said they would wait to see what commission Gunnar might be given before giving their full pledges.

He waited until Rina and Anwar (homebodies at heart) had gone below decks for the night before gathering his sword. He didn't have much in the way of fancy clothing, but he dressed himself in the softest of his leathers, while also leaving his arms bare and a bit of his back tattoo showing. These were his most impressive features, he knew, more imposing than any satin.

"You are very well-dressed," Cook said as Gunnar passed him on his way off the ship. "I thought you were going to trade."

"It's only a sort of trading."

Cook winked. "I wish you many tasty morsels."

* * *

Hoping to make an unassuming entrance and blend into the crowd, Gunnar arrived at the tavern at a very advanced hour, after it was sure to be in full swing. Although larger and more expensive-looking than most establishments of its kind, little about the place stood out as unique. Yellow and red strips of velvet lined the walls just as they did in all such places around Arabia. The busty wenches and slim boys hauling refreshments from table to table wore the usual gauzy excuses for clothing. The calming, pleasing scent of well-roasted chicken and fried onions permeated the large rooms—and probably also the rooms Gunnar guessed were upstairs. 

Gunnar was no stranger to such halls, though there had been more fur on the bodies and fewer boys on offer in the taverns he'd frequented in the North. During his Valsgard days, he would have come with a group of fellow warriors. They tended to move in large packs that overwhelmed establishments, driving out most other patrons due to their loud voices and unsavory behavior. Gunnar had been amongst the quietest of the bunch, even then, but he had always enjoyed himself.

Tonight was his first time walking into such a place alone. 

A passing girl slung her arm around his waist and practically hoisted herself up his side. She drew close enough that Gunnar could smell the sweet-scented oils in her hair and feel her bosom pressing against his ribs. "What are you looking for, handsome? I'm sure I can help you find it." 

"I am looking for a merchant by the name of Hashim. He owns this place."

"How funny that you don't know him. I thought everyone here did. Do you see that nook under the mosaic arch?"

Gunnar squinted. He could see a few people inside, but a thick cloth covered a good bit of the entrance. "Yes."

"Hashim is the one with the orange beard and purple cloak."

"Thank you." Gunnar pressed a coin into her palm and extricated himself from the corner into which her breasts had backed him. That satisfied her enough to get her to leave him alone.

Gunnar was approached by no fewer than three girls and two boys on the way to the private alcove. While not blind to their charms, he waved them off with curt blandness. He cleared his throat as he pushed the curtain up far enough to admit him. He politely waited at the threshold of the alcove for admittance.

He cast a long enough shadow that the occupants of the alcove looked up immediately. To be more accurate, Hashim and his two friends looked up immediately. The 'companions' who splayed around the men and the area did not; they straddled the merchants' laps, or sat at their sides, leaning in very close, practically kissing their necks.

"What do you want?" one of Hashim's friends asked.

"My name is Gunnar. I was given the name of Hashim as a merchant of good standing who may be interested in the wares I have to sell. Al-Barish sent me with his compliments."

Hashim lounged in the best and most central seat of the alcove, the one plumped up high with cushions. He was feeding chocolates to a beautiful youth knelt at his feet while a lovely girl with a long black plait massaged his shoulders and giggled in his ear.

Hashim's beard looked orange in this light, but Gunnar could tell that by day it would resemble the strawberry-gold of the Northern Gauls. The rest of his features—the blue eyes, the shape of his face—corroborated this placement. And Hashim, as he appraised Gunnar like so much merchandise, must have been making similar calculations.

"It has been a long time since I have conversed with a true Viking," he said with the self-assurance of a man rich and powerful enough to give everyone a warm welcome. 

"Possibly not as long as it has been since I met a true Gaul."

"Well placed, sir, well-placed. Come, sit. Join us. Al-Barish has never sent me a dull contact, so I look forward to hearing your story." Hashim rang a bell for service, and two servers came running. "Bring refreshments for our new guest. The house specialties. Everything, and I do mean _everything_ on the menu."

"Thank you for the hospitality. I have already eaten my supper, but I will gladly share some drinks," Gunnar said as he unstrapped his sword and eased himself onto a divan. He felt awkward and out of place here, overdressed even though his were the only arms bare.

"The food here does not count among the house specialties. As a Valsgard, I would think you should know that." 

Gunnar laughed, but it was forced. Easy as Hashim's manners were, Gunnar did not like him. Such manners, gained in such a life, tended to follow cruel treatment of others. Both as a Valsgard and as a trader, Gunnar had learned that powerful men liked to pretend to befriend anyone they liked; they had the luxury of eschewing snobbery.

"Al-Barish did mention you to me earlier today, when he came to my offices for business. He said you might stop by tonight with an interesting proposition for an adventure. You call yourself a procurer of anything, did you not?"

"Yes, I did."

"I'm all ears. But…" Hashim said, leaning forward to press a bejeweled finger on Gunnar's open mouth. "Drinks first. For this is a night of pleasure. Business should come afterwards." 

Perhaps Sinbad had been right about his unfitness for this interview; Gunnar tried to relax, but he continued to feel uneasy, as well as too tall for this booth. One of Hashim's friends had his hand up the dress of one of the girls. Her overdone moans of ecstasy made it difficult to sustain meaningful conversation.

This had never been so difficult before. Before, Gunnar would have been the one with his hand up a skirt (or, just as equally to his preference, though more difficult to find, down a pair of trousers). He would have been drunk already, and singing loud songs. 

They plied him with more and more wine, which helped a little, as did the figs. And Hashim's friends, when their attentions could be spared, proved less boorish than Gunnar had expected. (Or perhaps it was simply that Gunnar found himself able to tap into the reserve of boorishness that he had tried for years to bury.)

He had almost started to relax when new 'refreshments' came in. 

"You look lonely. And cold, with your arms uncovered like that," a voice said, interrupting his conversation with one of Hashim's friends. "You are too handsome for goosebumps."

Gunnar knew this voice. He listened to it every day, in both reality and in his shameful dreams. He turned around and, even though he had recognized Sinbad by his voice, the sight of him almost caused him to spill his wine. 

Sinbad was shirtless, but that was hardly new. No, it was his hair, which hung loosely braided around his face. Or, no, actually it was his eyes, which had been lined extra-thick with kohl to bring out their sparkling mischief. Or perhaps it was the thin, yellow harem pants that brought out the glow of his skin while also hugging the round bottom and thick cock hidden within. 

"You are a pretty one that I have not seen here before. I thought I knew all of the regulars at this tavern," Hashim said in a welcoming, indulgent tone. 

Hashim motioned for Sinbad to come to him, which Sinbad did with a devastating sashay. He knelt at Hashim's feet and rested his chin on his knee. Hashim stroked Sinbad's face and smelled his hair.

"Very pretty, very clean," was Hashim's verdict. "You have a freshness about you. "

"I'm new," Sinbad said, voice dripping with seduction that Gunnar had only ever dreamt of. "My name is Sinbad."

"I love a new boy. Well, you are very welcome," Hashim said with another proprietary caress.

Gunnar felt his blood temperature rise. Something like the berserker rage that had once fueled him to such heights on the battlefield began to make itself felt for the first time in years. He took a couple of deep breaths, and a long, cool draught of wine to calm himself. But it was torture, watching Sinbad pay such attentions, however feigned, right in front of him. To bat his eyelashes at another man. To open his mouth so alluringly for bites that another man fed him. Sinbad even licked the tips of Hashim's fingers as he took the figs. 

"A very good boy," Hashim murmured happily.

"I aim to please," Sinbad said, with his voice pitched low and sultry. He looked over at Gunnar. "And what is your name, Viking?" 

Gunnar tried to ignore him. He turned to business in order to control his thoughts and his desires. "If I may make the proposition…" 

"Too early for business," one of the friends said between kisses with the girl in his lap. 

"No," Hashim retorted. He leaned forward, far enough to slide his hand down Sinbad's back and into the waistband of his trousers. "Let us hear it. You seem like the type who will not relax until the business is discussed. I invited you to sit with us because I enjoy hearing tales of the North. Therefore, I would prefer you to relax sooner rather than later."

Gunnar fought back the need to strike him for daring to touch… But no, he told himself. Sinbad was not his. Sinbad did not always need his protection. He was his own man, and he knew what he was doing, most of the time. He could only be here tonight because he had chosen to be, for whatever reason.

Gunnar tried to look away from where Hashim was clearly rubbing his oil-covered fingers along Sinbad's cleft. Sinbad had his face turned so that Gunnar would be the only one able to see his saucy wink, and also the alluring way he opened his mouth in pleasure. But the gasp did not reach his eyes, did not make them sparkle the way they did on those late nights on deck.

Even so, Gunnar shifted his legs to hide the effects this scene was having on him. His heart was so full of Sinbad that his mouth somehow relaxed. Doing this deal no longer seemed so difficult, not when faced with something else so challenging.

He kept his eyes firmly on Hashim as he explained his plan to bring back treasures from the Land of the Dead. 

"You have a way of getting there?" Hashim suddenly seemed much less louche and lazy. His eyes sharpened, completely sober.

"Yes, ways only I and my business partners can travel."

"And if you lie?"

"I was a Valsgard. Say what you like about us, but we are not liars."

Hashim leaned back. "That is true. I know that well. I have to tell you… when first you came in here, all brooding and taciturn, I thought Al-Barish had sent me his first letdown. But now… _now_ I see the flash and anger and glamour of a Valsgard. Now I see who you truly are. A man of courage and passion, not just of brawn. That passion suffuses your face. It instills trust." 

"Do we have a deal?" Gunnar asked.

"We do."

They shook hands, solidifying their partnership. 

"I will ensure that my envoys send a list of potential items to your ship in the morning. Anything you can bring me from that list would be of immense value to me, and I will ensure you are compensated beyond your wildest dreams. For I know the dangerous journey you undertake. I hope you survive it.

"Thank you."

Throughout the transaction, Sinbad had sat more quietly and docilely than Gunnar had imagined possible, but at this, he lay on his back at Hashim's feet and gave Gunnar a stare that anyone else would have interpreted as hungry. Gunnar alone saw it as happiness and pride. 

Hashim noticed, and must have come to the former interpretation, because he patted Sinbad on the shoulder. "As a promise of my goodwill, Gunnar, I will gift you this lad for the rest of the night, free of charge. I can tell you want him. I can tell by how desperately you have been trying not to look at him. So, have him. I'll even pay for our best room upstairs." Looking down at Sinbad he asked, in a syrupy tone that still did not brook a refusal, "You like our big, handsome Viking, don't you?"

Sinbad did not take his eyes off Gunnar as he answered, "Very much, my lord. I believe he may have stolen my heart."

"That's laying it on a bit thick, but you are new, and I cannot fault your willingness to please. Go with him. Ensure that he leaves this establishment fully satisfied. Can you do that?"

"I will do anything he allows me to do, my lord. Anything he wants."

"Very good." Turning to Gunnar, Hashim said, "And now, take this beautiful creature, and enjoy yourself. May we spend another evening when you return with my mythical goods!"

Gunnar knew that he could not refuse the offer, not without insulting his host and losing the deal. He stood up, feeling as though he were trapped in a dream. Sinbad took him by the hand, wrapped Gunnar's arm around his waist, and led him out of the alcove. They climbed the stairs like that. Sinbad really must have been a real new addition here, because he received greetings from the other whores, and an approving nod from the madam when he told her that Hashim had directed him to the premier suite.

"What are you doing here?" Gunnar asked as soon as they were alone.

"Trying to help you, of course. I didn't think you had it in you. I knew if I could get your blood up, you would be able to impress a man like that. So, I volunteered my services this afternoon, passed all the examinations with flying colours, and ensured I would be nearby when you negotiated with Hashim."

"You…" Gunnar didn't know where to start. "You passed 'the examinations'? How? A place like this only takes the most experienced… You haven't… You can't have done this before."

"Of course I did," Sinbad said with a shrug that failed to hide some buried discomfort. "Times sometimes got hard, and… you know how it is. The customers aren't always horrible. I only went with the ones who promised a good time, or who were handsome. Some were even as handsome as you."

"Sinbad…" 

"Don't pity me. I've always known what I was doing."

Gunnar could tell that Sinbad didn't want to talk about it, so he let it go, at least for tonight.

"And what did you mean that you wanted to get my blood up?"

"You hated to see Hashim pawing all over me. You are like the bears you're always telling us about. Protective and possessive. It makes you more confident, more interesting. Like that day with the golem. I'd never seen you like that before, and haven't since. Not until tonight. But today you got like that without having to fight. How did it feel?"

Gunnar thought. It felt good, actually. To know that he didn't have to suppress all of himself in order to avoid fighting. That he might not need to split his personality after all. 

He was still thinking about all this when Sinbad leapt into the bed.

"What are you doing?" Gunnar asked. "We did what we came for. We should go."

"Not on your life. The way I see it, we have a room. A free room. The nicest room I've ever been in. It's been some time since I slept on a real bed. And even longer since I did _other_ things on a bed. I gave Hashim my word that I'd leave you satisfied. That I'd do anything you want." He crawled forward on hands and knees to the foot of the bed, where Gunnar stood. "I did mean anything."

For the first time in his life, Gunnar felt his knees go a little weak. He tried to remain strong, in both body and heart. "Sinbad. Stop this game."

"It is no game."

"You can't mean this."

"Gunnar, I've been throwing myself at you for weeks, ever since that day with the Kaimar. When I saw you—the real you—so strong, and noble, and clever, and brave… That was when I knew that the way I felt about you was more than the simple friendship and admiration I'd thought. You chose me over them. You chose me over a life that I know a large part of you wanted. You chose me and then you ignored me. You won't stay above deck with me anymore. You won't talk to me." He drew closer and bunched Gunnar's shirt in his hands. "Why?"

Gunnar had not lied when he'd told Hashim that a Valsgard did not lie. "It is because I have wanted you too much."

"Well, that's just stupid, because I want you, too," Sinbad said before kissing him silly.

Sinbad kissed like he did everything else—recklessly, confidently, and with a smile. 

"That was even better than I thought it would be," he said when they came up for air.

Gunnar tore off the gauze Sinbad wore with his bare hands until he was able to caress the lean planes of his chest with no barrier. 

"You're lucky I'll be gone tomorrow and won't need those anymore. The madam will be furious."

"I am not afraid of her." Gunnar thought he might not be afraid of anything ever again, not after having held Sinbad like this, not after having felt this. He began stripping himself of his leathers, and felt gratified at the lust-blown, wide-eyed hunger—not feigned at all—that suffused Sinbad's face when he finally stood naked before him.

"You're gorgeous," Sinbad whispered. He felt up and down Gunnar's chest, trailing quicksilver fingers along every ridge of muscle. He went so far as to kneel a little in order to kiss every square of Gunnar's abdomen. Gunnar gasped when he felt Sinbad's tongue licking even lower, at the hardness that was already growing.

"And you are crazy."

"No, I mean it."

"Well, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

With his mouth tantalizingly close, Sinbad said, "Promise me this won't be the only time. Promise me, or I won't do this at all."

"You drive a hard bargain," Sinbad said, and he could hear the foreign sound of fondness in his voice. "I promise."

Sinbad rewarded him by taking him into his mouth. Gunnar gasped in pleasure, at the heat of it, and at the way Sinbad grabbed the backs of his thighs to bring Gunnar in closer. He kept at it, those plush lips working and those dark eyes never breaking their stare, until Gunnar was panting.

Gunnar almost swore when, just as he was getting close, Sinbad drew back with a wicked grin. 

"What are you doing?" Gunnar asked.

"I can't let you finish that quickly." Sinbad got back on the bed and patted a spot next to him. "Come here. I have to make sure you get your money's worth."

"I didn't pay anything," Gunnar replied with a wry smile. But he complied, climbing onto the satin sheets and holding Sinbad tightly. 

"You're really bad at this, did you know that?"

"I'm better at other things."

"Show me." 

"Oh, I will."

It was the longest and most thorough demonstration Gunnar had ever given.


End file.
